


the demons we carry

by Piccolo_is_green



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Post-Majin Buu Saga, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slice of Life, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 21:10:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18507154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piccolo_is_green/pseuds/Piccolo_is_green
Summary: Everyone deals with trauma differently.In the weeks and months that follow the Buu debacle, those that were involved in the fight take stock of their lives, their trauma, and what it means moving forward.This is a collection of moments where characters reflect. There will be some romance in some of the tagged pairings. Other chapters will focus on single characters.





	the demons we carry

**Author's Note:**

> I attempted to do a fic like this years ago and stopped after four chapters, and by years ago I mean December 2008! It was my first fanfiction, and I just went back and had a quick glance over it and cringed haha (if you really want to read it you can find it on my fanfiction.net profile, but warning, it's not good). I'm not going to look at that old fic in too much detail, but once I cover off all the characters in this fic that are already included in that one, I might go take a look and compare what I was thinking back in 2008 with what I think now.
> 
> This is going to be one of those fics where I add a chapter when inspiration strikes. I hadn't planned to write this story at all, but sat down at my computer yesterday to write Vegebul and instead this Gohan/Videl scene came out. Now I have a few more ideas of what is going to come up - some individual father-son talks between Goku and his boys, a Goku/Chi Chi chapter, Bulma and Vegeta dealing with Majin Buu, etc. etc. All the characters that have been tagged and all pairings tagged can be expected to pop up at some point. I'll name each chapter with the characters, to make things easy if you're interested in only one portion of this.
> 
> As always, thank for reading.
> 
> \- Pic

Videl Satan loved to fight.

She always had; growing up around her father’s dojo, aspiring to be as strong as him someday — that had been her ultimate goal. She put her crime-fighting first, before her friends, before her study; she’d be the next hero after her father. She  _ loved  _ the thrill of knocking down an enemy.

And then Gohan Son came along, and all of her priorities shifted. First, before she even realised it was him, she had competed with the Great Saiyaman, who always seemed to be one step ahead of her. Gohan pissed her off in class, too, this country-bumpkin kid who somehow knew  _ everything. _

But at some point her anger and frustration and jealousy and fury turned into something else; this obsession to beat him melting into a need to  _ impress  _ him, to get his  _ approval _ , and while the feminist in her hated it, she couldn’t stop. Gohan would grin at her as she practiced her flying, and she’d be giddy with excitement. It seemed as if her heart made decisions long before her mind followed.  

He no longer pissed her off, but she didn’t understand why a guy with his strength kept it hidden. “You know, you could train with my Dad,” she told him once, after a morning of flight lessons. “He’d help you get famous. It’s easy money.”

Gohan had picked at the grass between them, shaking his head. “No. I don’t do this for the money.”

_ But isn’t that why you’re entering the tournament? _ she’d wanted to ask. The question burned her tongue as she held it back.

Her answer had come a week later, when all of her father’s lies unravelled before her.  _ “I don’t do this for the money.”  _ No, Gohan only fought for his loved ones, and for the lives of innocent people. He’d done it before. He’d saved Earth from Cell. He fought Buu alone. He’d died. So had she.

She was so angry at her father, despite her relief that he was alive. After that initial joy on the Lookout, she refused to speak with him until Gohan had convinced her to. “Hercule did me a favour when he took all the credit for beating Cell. I was grieving for my Dad, and I never wanted the attention, anyway.” Still, even when she did go home she felt the anger towards her Dad well up inside her, a deep sense of betrayal that he hadn’t even shared his secrets with her.

Her only solace was Gohan. 

 

* * *

 

They sit on the hill overlooking Gohan’s modest house. It makes Videl feel sick, the knowledge that the comforts she grew up in were never hers to enjoy. They should have been Gohan’s. It was his hard work. She tells him this.

“No, we’ve been fine. Honestly, Videl.”

“I’m going to make Dad pay you.”

“No.” Gohan has always been gentle with her, but he’s authoritative now. It irks her that he won’t accept what’s rightfully his.

“It should be your money.  _ Everything _ my father earned has been built on a lie. My whole lifestyle, my private helicopter and my fancy wardrobe, the live-in chef and maids! Gohan! It should be yours!”

“I don’t want it!”

“Your Mom would want it!”

She hasn’t even had the courage to kiss him yet — there’s been so many things going on and they haven't had much time alone — and here they are, having their first argument. She storms (flies) off, back to  _ Orange Star City _ — she refuses to think of it as Satan City — and wants to throw up as she passes Satan Bank and Satan Tower and a giant billboard of Satan-San!

She sulks in her bedroom all evening, watching TV in the dark, until there’s a tap at her window. Gohan’s there, floating in the night, and even though she’s still upset she can’t help but laugh as he struggles to squeeze his six-foot-four frame through the open gap. 

“You could have used the door,” she tells him when he finally stumbles in. He shakes his head, staring down at her with a mischievous look on his face. 

“I thought you said your Dad didn’t want me up here alone with you.”

“Yeah, well, you’re stronger than him. It’s not like he could actually do anything, right?” 

She says it as a joke, but the pain that flashes across his face made her realise she’s missing something here. “Do you even like fighting?” she asks, the question blurting out before she even registers what she was saying.

His whole body seems to sag before her, and he sits back on her bed, hard enough that the frame creaks under his weight. “No. I really don’t. Some days I hate it.”

“Why?” She hopes she doesn’t sound as if she’s judging him — she not! It’s just, she can’t understand — “You have all that power.”

“I know. And you probably think I’m a coward, but I didn’t ask for it. I’ve been fighting since I was four, and —”

“Since you were four!”

He nods, and there’s so much sadness in his eyes that her heart breaks for him. “I don’t want to disappoint my Dad,” he whispers.

She crosses the room to him in an instant, pulling him down against her on the bed, so that when he begins to sob it is into her shoulder, and as she lays there with her arms around him, rubbing his back and making soothing noises, she grows angry once more.

Something has happened to Gohan to make him feel this way. Maybe it was Cell, but her gut tells her it goes deeper than that. She presses her lips against the top of his head, squeezing him tighter, and he squeezes back, so hard she feels like her ribs might crack.

“Gohan — I need to breathe.”

“Sorry!” he sort of half-sobs, half-laughs, raising his head to look at her. His skin is blotchy and he looks like shit, and yet she feels like she’s never seen anyone so beautiful in her life.

And so she kisses him. 

And  _ thank kami _ he starts kissing her back. It feels better than she’d imagined as their lips glide and their tongues meet, and she needs  _ more _ , so she takes it, straddling him and grinding against him through their clothes. Their lips are sealed together and she chases  _ that feeling _ that makes her gasp and break for air and bury her head against his neck. Her heart hammers against her ribcage, but so is his; she can feel it under her hand.

“I love you,” she whispers quietly. It seems crazy to say it after such a short amount of time, but they’d  _ died _ and she doesn’t want to waste any more moments.

She feels his arms wrap around her tighter. “ _ I love you too _ ,” he says... seems to say… although his mouth doesn’t move.

“Did you — that was in my head!” She’s staring at him now.

“Telepathy. I wasn’t sure if it would work with you.” He pauses. “ _ But it did, didn’t it? You can hear me?” _

She nods silently, dropping her head back down against his shoulder, remembering once more that he isn’t just strong and super human, but  _ Super Saiyan _ . An alien.

“I don’t want to scare you, but you need to know…” He trails off, and the look he gives her is full of fear. “You need to know what you’re in for, and if you don’t want any of it I won’t blame you Videl. If it’s too much —” 

“It won’t be too much. Don’t be stupid.”

_ “Videl!” _ It’s a desperate plea that rings through her head.  _ “Videl, I’m serious. You need to know. You need to know what might happen.” _

“Then tell me.”

And so he does. He tells her everything — everything about his uncle, about the death of his father, about Piccolo and his messed up training methods, the deaths of his new friends as they fought Saiyans (a chill runs down her spine as she thinks of Vegeta; that man gives her a bad vibe). He’s crying again as he describes Piccolo’s death, his voice barely more than a whisper.

She hugs him tight as he tells her of the nightmarish trip to Namek, and the murders he witnessed there. How he dug graves for all the fallen and buried them like he’d seen at a funeral on TV, how Frieza had tormented those he fought. How Gohan thought he would die.

How his dad didn’t come home for over a year. What the Androids were and what that threat meant. What being strong — truly strong, ( _ not a phony like Dad _ , she thinks bitterly) — really means. That it means you’re on call if any threat ever comes to Earth. That threats always come.

That he hates fighting. He used to enjoy it but he’s so tired now. He’s eighteen, and he’s been at war since he was four. Even after Cell he knew, he just _ knew _ something else would happen, though he tried to forget the feeling, tried to push it away. He just wanted to go to high school and be a normal kid, and look what happened.

“It’ll happen again, Videl. And I hate myself because I don’t want to fight again. Even if…”

“You don’t have to,” she tells him. “You don’t have to.” She’s kissing him again, but this time his cheeks, kissing away the tears, swallowing his sobs with her mouth. 

“I’m sorry I’m a mess.” He brushes at his eyes with the back of his hand, pulling away. She shakes her head, so angry at the universe for everything that’s been done to this beautiful soul.

“Don’t apologise!” She tugs back the blankets on her bed, orders him to climb inside, and curls up beside him. They’re both still fully clothed and her bra is going to annoy her in the night, but for now she doesn’t care.

“You’re not a bad person, Gohan,” she whispers to him, hugging him to her, doing her best to wrap her tiny frame around his much larger body. She wants to envelop him. She wants him to feel safe. “You are the best person, the most amazing...”

They are kissing again, and in this dark cocoon she feels brave enough to use her hands, to explore him. “Can I?” he asks, and she nods and lifts her arms as he peels her shirt off and tosses it somewhere out of sight. 

“Your turn.” His clothes come off until they’re both in their underwear under the sheets, not quite brave enough to take the next step even though her body aches for it. His body is the stuff of dreams, all hard muscle under her hands. She rolls until her back is pressed against his chest, his body wrapping around her, the hard length of his erection (she’s avoided touching it even though she wants to) pressing into her backside.

They talk, not about the bad stuff — they’ve done enough of that already — just of regular things. TV shows and gossip from school, the ice cream parlor that Gohan  _ still _ hasn’t been too even though she’s recommended it a hundred times.

She’s almost asleep when she jolts awake with a thought. Gohan is tense behind her. “What?!”

“Your parents! What will your Mom think about you being here! She’ll call me a whore!”

“Dad’s covering for me. He knew I was coming here. I told him I might not be back till morning.”

She doesn’t know what to think about that. “You told your Dad you were thinking of staying the night here? You already had that planned?”

“My Dad can sense where I am, always. He was going to know anyway. Besides, he doesn’t think like most people. He doesn’t care about this sort of thing.”

“What does he care about?”

“Fighting. And his family. But mainly fighting.”

She settles back down, rolling back towards Gohan and slinging her leg over his. “Can they all sense us?”

“Hm? The others? Yeah. Yeah, they can sense us, always. Just like I can sense them. They won’t say anything. You don’t have to worry.”

“Oh jeez, this is going to be embarrassing next time I see them.”

“I can go home if —”

“No!” She’s a little too emphatic, and ducks her head against his shoulder as he laughs, pulling her closer again.

“Just tell me they can’t tell when people are having sex. Like, ki sensing doesn’t work like that, right?”

Gohan is too quiet, his body too still beneath her cheek. “ _ No _ ,” she whispers. “No, you can’t be serious.”

“I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, they’re all used to it, and so am I. We just all pretend we don’t notice it.”

“And none of them are going to tell your Mom.”

“No. They owe me.” And she realises that they really do; that everyone on this planet owes him for their continued existence. 

Now it is her turn to cry. Silent tears pool in the crease between her cheek and his shoulder.

“Don’t cry. Oh man, please, please don’t cry.”

“I don’t deserve you,” she tells him. “You’re too good.” She’s kissing him again, or maybe he’s kissing her, and she melts into him. She’s very tempted to take things further, but something tells her tonight's not the night. They’re both far too emotional as it is.

And so eventually, they sleep.

She wakes to the sound of whimpering. When she realises it’s Gohan it jolts her out of her sleep completely. She hears him beg, “ _ please, don’t _ ,” and it’s enough for her to start shaking his shoulders. He comes awake with a start, gasping and sitting up in the bed. The cold air hits her skin, and she pulls him back down, ignoring how clammy he feels under her touch as she pulls the blankets over them once more.

“You had a nightmare.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise! Stop apologising for things you didn’t do or can’t control.  _ Please. _ ”

She feels, more than sees him shake his head. He curls around her once more, and she sighs contentedly. Being here in his arms feels like the most natural thing in the world.

“Do you often get nightmares?” she asks.

“After Cell, I had them every night. It stopped eventually. I guess with Buu…”

“I had a nightmare last night. About being turned into chocolate.”

His arms tighten around her. “This is my dilemma. I want to stop fighting. But… I want to protect you, too.”

“I can protect myself.”

“Not from everything. There are things too powerful for Humans.”

“You’re Human too. Sure, you’re Saiyan, but you’re just as much Human. And I think that part of you needs a break right now. We will be fine. There’s enough others like you who do like to fight. If you need to stop, you need to stop.”

“Thank you.”

She used to love fighting. Now she sees all the violence for what it really is; not a show, but life or death, pain and suffering, sacrifice and fear and trauma so great that it terrorises the person she loves most.

“You don’t have to fight anymore,” she whispered in his ear. “And if anyone says anything, I’ll beat the crap out of them for you.”

He laughs, and eventually they sleep again.

In the early hours of the morning Gohan rises. She watches from her warm cocoon within the bed as he pulls on his clothes, smiling shyly and blushing while she ogles him. “Hey,” she whispers, poking one arm out into the cold air to tug him towards her for a kiss. “I love you.”

He kisses her forehead. “I love you too.”

He stands, stretches, and then looks pained. “Oh man, I’ve gotta get back through that window.”

She laughs and has to pull a pillow over her face to stop her from being to loud. “Good luck!” she whispers, and settles back for the show. 

 


End file.
